The Coming of the End
by Koinaka
Summary: As the battle between heaven and hell begins, the Winchesters gain an unexpected ally.
1. Chapter 1

AN: So, pretty much the last thing I should do is start yet another Glee/Supernatural crossover, but I keep getting these wonderful, wonderful ideas, and what else am I supposed to do other than write them?

Warnings: Spoilers for Supernatural 4.09 and after. AU after that as well because there's no Anna Milton although this was largely inspired by her character on the show. Also, it has been moved up 2 years putting it on the same timeline of Glee.

For Glee, I'm going to say a blanket spoiler notice for all of Season 2, but it is largely AU because of Kurt's status as an angel which obviously is not true :D Oh, and the Raziel spoken of below has nothing to do with the Razel mention in the Mortal Instruments series.

I think that's it for warnings. This is the first time I've written anything as wildly AU as this is, so I suppose I ought to watch out for the tar and feathers! I'm not sure I'm going to continue to post it, but if enough people are interested in reading it, then I definitely will.

The Coming of the End

By _Koinaka_

In the arms of an angel  
Fly away from here  
From this dark cold hotel room  
And the endlessness that you fear.  
You are pulled from the wreckage  
Of your silent reverie.  
You're in the arms of the angel  
May you find some comfort there.  
_-Angel, Sarah McLachlan_

Chapter One

The thing about going crazy, Kurt discovered, was that you didn't know you were going crazy in the first place because if you asked Kurt, he would tell you that he wasn't crazy at all. He could hear angels talking in his head, yes, but that didn't make him crazy. Only… well, to everyone else it _did. _

The first time he heard the angels was on the third Saturday in September during his junior year of high school.

He had been sitting in his room with Tina and Mercedes talking about Rachel's latest tirade in Glee when he heard someone say, "Dean Winchester is saved."

Of course, Kurt was smart enough that he knew hearing things that no one else could hear—and he knew that no one else had heard that after asking both Tina and Mercedes—wasn't exactly the mark of a sane person, but he had hoped it was a fluke.

It wasn't.

The next time it happened, not only was Kurt completely alone, but it was more than one voice. He didn't freak out though. He explained it away as a figment of his imagination brought on by the stress of his dad's heart attack and too little sleep.

Pretty soon, though, he was hearing the angels all the time—when he was alone, when he was with others, during classes, and even during Glee. As time went on, he became more withdrawn from his friends and family, and who could blame him? It was hard to pay attention to his normal everyday life when the angels spent nearly every moment talking about the Apocalypse.

That was where it became a little strange for Kurt because he had never been a very religious person. Before all of this had happened to him, he was more indifferent about God than anything else. Listening to the angels didn't help matters in his feelings about God at all because everything in heaven—and on Earth!—was in chaos and yet God was nowhere to be found. Why shouldn't Kurt be angry at God? What had he ever done for him besides cause him nothing but pain?

Nearly a month after he first started hearing the voices, his dad confronted him.

"You gotta talk to me, kid, I don't know what to do anymore."

Kurt was sitting in on his bed, his mind a million miles away. His dad was saying something about drug use or depression, and he was trying to pay attention to it—_he was_—but the angels were up in arms about the possibility of another seal being broken, and he just couldn't concentrate on anything else but that.

It wasn't until his dad grabbed him by the arms and forced him to look at him that he responded at all and even then Kurt only offered him the smallest of reassurances that sounded weak even to his preoccupied mind. He wasn't sure if his dad believed them or not, and if he was being honest, he didn't care.

The closer it got to Halloween, the more agitated Kurt was. He withdrew further and further from his friends—quitting the Glee Club and spending all of his time alone in his room. He stopped listening to music because he was afraid to miss a single moment of the angels talking. He even went so far as to take caffeine pills and drink cup after cup of coffee so that he could stay awake.

On Halloween things took a turn for the worse.

It was after midnight when Kurt became hysterical. The Winchesters had failed to stop the rising of Samhain which meant that not only was there about to be a slaughter the likes of which the world hadn't seen since the last time Samhain had walked the earth, but another seal was now broken. Lucifer was one step closer to walking the earth, and he must not be allowed to walk the earth.

Terrified, Kurt took one of his razors and slit his wrist. When his dad found him a few minutes later, he was drawing a strange symbol on the wall of the basement with his own blood. It took both his dad and Finn to hold him down until an ambulance could get there.

"I wasn't trying to kill myself," Kurt told the doctor for what felt like the hundredth time. The incident on Halloween had led to him being involuntarily committed for 72-hours.

"Why did you cut yourself, then, if not to do harm?"

"I had to!"

The questioning went on and on in circles. Every time he gave an answer, the doctor would ask him why. "But why did you have to?"

"To protect myself," Kurt admitted at last.

The doctor clearly hadn't been expecting him to answer like that because a perplexed look flitted across his face. "Protect yourself from what?"

Kurt's lips thinned, and he shook his head, refusing to answer. "You'll just think I'm crazy."

The doctor made a noncommittal noise and took a few notes in the yellow legal pad that was perched in his lap. "I'm not here to judge you. I'm here to help you, Kurt."

There was an influx of voices. Apparently Dean Winchester had passed some sort of test. Some of the angels were happy about this information, but others…well, the others were unhappy about it.

"—Kurt, can you hear me?"

Reluctantly, Kurt turned his attention back to the doctor in front of him. "Yes, I'm sorry."

The doctor studied him for a minute. "You seem distracted. Why?"

Kurt didn't answer. The angels were getting louder. It sounded as if they were fighting. Some of them were pleased—very pleased—that the seal had been broken. The others were outraged that their brethren would feel that way. The angrier they got the higher pitched their voices became until Kurt could barely think. He put his hands over his ears in a vain attempt to block out some of the noise.

The doctor motioned for an orderly to take him back to his temporary room.

Another thing about people thinking you're crazy was their tendency to talk about you as if you weren't in the room, even if you're sitting less than three feet away from them.

At the end of his 72-hour commitment, he found himself sitting next to his dad in a set of incredibly uncomfortable chairs the doctor had in front of his desk. They were discussing him as if he was no more than a child. When they did finally leave it was with a referral to a psychiatrist, a diagnosis of Schizophrenia, and a prescription for Clozapine.

For a couple of weeks things went back to almost normal. He took his medicine every morning and every night, went to the therapist twice a week, and spent the rest of time either at school or with his dad at the garage. The angels were quiet—almost too quiet—but Kurt wasn't sure if that was because something big was about to go on or because the medicine had "fixed" him. Either way, he felt constantly on edge. Unlike before, though, he was better at hiding it.

He hadn't liked the three days that he spent in the psych ward at Lima Memorial Hospital, and he wanted to avoid another visit if he could help it. If that meant he had to feign interest in frivolities such as Glee club and football in order to keep his dad and the kids at school off of his back, he would.

He might have even succeeded if he hadn't heard one of the angels say his name. Only it wasn't quite his name. _Raziel_, they called him, but somehow Kurt knew they were talking about him. He just _knew_ it like he'd known they were angels in the first place, like he'd known the symbol to put on the wall to keep any angel out of his house because that was what the symbol had been—an Enochian Sigil.

After he heard the whisper of his name, they went completely silent. He had never been more terrified in his life because the silence he was experiencing wasn't a _natural_ silence—nothing about it was natural in the first place but this was even more unnatural than the other—it wasn't even the silence he had experience prior to September. It was as if they had put a block on him somehow. He knew they were still talking, still communicating, only now he couldn't hear it—and if he couldn't hear them then how was he supposed to protect himself? The answer was simple, he couldn't. He needed help only who could help him? Who could protect him against the Host of Heaven?

The first night after the introduction of radio silence he fell into a fitful sleep.

He dreamed of a garden. At first he was alone, but then he noticed someone else with him—an older dark-skinned man with patches of gray in his hair. He was dressed like a gardener but he obviously wasn't human given the large expanse of wings he sported. He wasn't a man—he was an angel. Joshua, his mind supplied for him.

"Remember," the angel told him.

And then he did.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Wow, so the response I've gotten for this is just amazing! I hadn't expected to update so soon, but here you go!

Warnings: Spoilers for Supernatural 4.09 and after. AU after that as well because there's no Anna Milton although this was largely inspired by her character on the show. Also, it has been moved up 2 years putting it on the same timeline of Glee.

For Glee, I'm going to say a blanket spoiler notice for all of Season 2, but it is largely AU because of Kurt's status as an angel which obviously is not true :D Oh, and the Raziel spoken of below has nothing to do with the Razel mention in the Mortal Instruments series.

I got most of my information about Raziel from the Wikipedia page, but I did add my own interpretation. I am going to try my best to keep Kurt as in character as I can, but please bear with me.

Happy Friday!

The Coming of the End

By _Koinaka_

In the arms of an angel  
Fly away from here  
From this dark cold hotel room  
And the endlessness that you fear.  
You are pulled from the wreckage  
Of your silent reverie.  
You're in the arms of the angel  
May you find some comfort there.  
_-Angel, Sarah McLachlan_

Chapter Two

Kurt shot out of his bed, gasping for air.

He remembered everything.

He remembered walking in a sun streaked garden speaking with his father.

He remembered the words that his father had spoken and how helpless they had made him feel.

_"I am weary, Raziel_."

He remembered the look on his father's face—utterly devastated and heartbroken and beneath it all there was something else there, something that spoke of the weight he carried around, the worries, the pains, and the _guilt._

He remembered dropping to the ground and resting his head against his father's knees, wetting his robe with his tears as he asked. "_What would you have me do, Father?_"

He remembered how his heart had ached in the stretch of silence that had followed, how soothing it had felt for his father to run his fingers through his hair, how he had _known_—had always known—that it would come to this, and yet had always wished it would not be so. Being the bearer of God's secrets was not a position he would wish on his worst enemy.

"_I cannot bear the constant fighting between your brothers any longer. I need peace, and I will not find it here." _

He remembered weeping in earnest then. "_Please, do not leave me, Father_. _I could not bear to be apart from you." _

He remembered the breeze as his Father left, his whispered apology in the wind.

_"I am sorry, so sorry…" _

He remembered how Heaven had descended into chaos, how his brothers had questioned him.

_"Where has He gone, Raziel?" _

_"Why has He left us?"_

_"When does He mean to return?" _

_"_Does_ He mean to return?"_

But they knew as well as he that he could not tell them.

He remembered years of aimlessly wandering the earth—years he spent watching over his Father's creations, walking with them, marveling over their complexity, their beauty, and even their flaws, loving them as his Father loved them not because He had commanded it—even though He had—but because they deserved it. For creatures that led such fleeting and often such perilous lives, they had attained a level of faithfulness that even most angels would never attain.

He remembered how alone he felt—always so alone—even when he was surrounded by his Father's creations; how he would stand unseen in the middle of a crowd and close his eyes yearning to feel his Father's presence once again.

He remembered praying for hours and begging his Father to speak to him, to answer him, to return to him; he remembered how hurt—how _angry—_ he was when no reply ever came; he remembered saying every spiteful thing he could think of in his anger—how maybe Lucifer had been right all along because He had abandoned His own children for His new creations. He also remembered asking for forgiveness later when his anger had abated and all he was left with was regret and a weariness that seemed to penetrate down to his very core.

He remembered finally—_finally—_hearing his Father's voice in his head telling him that he was forgiven, that it was time to go home, time to stop running, because he would be needed in the upcoming years; he remembered how happy he was and yet how unsatisfied he had felt because after going without hearing His voice for such a long time, his words had felt like a tease, like offering only a trickle of water to a man in Hell—at once both refreshing and torturous because it was not enough, would never be enough.

He remembered returning to Heaven and the uproar it caused, the whispers of betrayal he heard, the plotting, the hate.

The _betrayal_.

He remembered feeling Raphael's sword against the back of his neck, how cold the steel had been, even colder yet his words, his accusations.

"_You would choose _them _over your own brethren… traitor…" _

But the last thing he remembered was a flash of light and whispered words on the wind.

_"I'm sorry…so sorry."_

The basement door opened, jarring him from his memories.

"Everything okay down here, Kurt?"

Kurt let out a breath that he hadn't even realized he had been holding. It was just his dad. His human dad. How strange it was to think those words. It would be difficult, he knew, to reconcile the two parts of himself into one.

He wiped a hand over his face and was surprised when he pulled it back, and it was wet with tears. He quickly wiped the tears away before his dad, who he could hear coming down the stairs, could see. "Fine," he said. "Everything is fine."

But everything was not fine because when his dad turned towards him, he realized two things.

The first being that it was not his dad staring back at him, but a demon.

The second being that he was missing something very vital to an angel—his grace.

"Or," the demon asked conversationally, "should I say, _Raziel_?"

Kurt's eyes flitted around the basement. There was no way he would be able to escape, the only exit being a tiny window near the ceiling that he would have to climb to reach and that would take precious time, time that he did not have.

"So, you're the keeper of God's secrets… my, my, the things you must know… I'm looking forward to chatting with you. You and I are going to have so much fun together."

He tried, desperately, to think of a way to stop the demon. He was, for all intents and purposes, a human. He needed help, but who could he call on that he could trust? And would he even be able to call on _anyone_ without his grace? He could only hope that this demon had inherited Lucifer's pride because that would give him a little more time to think.

Kurt sneered. "And what makes you think I would talk to _you_?"

"Oh, you'll talk…one way or another, you'll talk."

"Resorting to violence already? I would say that I expected better from you, but being what you _are_…well, my expectations are fairly low. In fact, I'm surprised you even have the intelligence to form a proper sentence let alone to discover where I was."

A look of anger crossed the demon's face. "You dare to insult me?"

Kurt shrugged. "That's not an insult—it's just the truth."

His eyes widened when he saw yet another face at the top of the stairs. The man shook his head and put a finger to his lips to indicate that Kurt should remain silent.

The demon took another step toward Kurt. He was now within touching distance of him, but the demon seemed satisfied to just taunt him for the moment.

"Pretty cocky for an angel cut off from his juice. I hear your brothers are looking for you, too. Word on the street is you've got a death sentence on your pretty little head. If I were you, I wouldn't be so quick to make more enemies. My father is a forgiving Lord. Tell us what we need to know, and I'm sure that he will spare you. After all, you're his little brother."

"Lucifer is no lord," Kurt snarled at once. "And he's in no position to offer me anything, now, is he, seeing as how you've yet to break 66 seals."

"Why you—" but the demon was cut off when the man stabbed him in the back with an odd-looking knife.

Lights flickered beneath the demon's face before going out completely, leaving only the familiar face of his dad behind. Kurt made an anguished sound when he fell, lifeless, to the floor.

"You okay?" the man asked as he pulled the knife out of his dad's back and wiped the blood off on the leg of his tattered jeans.

Kurt could only nod, his mind whirling with everything that had happened in such a short span of time.

"Good. My name is Dean, and I'm here to take you somewhere safe."

"Dean Winchester?" Kurt asked.

The man—Dean—nodded. "Yeah, that's me."

Kurt nearly sagged with relief. If he was with Dean, he would be safe. "We should go. If that demon was telling the truth, it won't be long until my brothers discover where I am, if they haven't already, and I'm guessing they won't be very happy to see me."

Dean looked like he wanted to ask why but instead gave him a brisk nod.

Kurt stepped over his dad's body, closing his eyes briefly against the wave of grief that threatened to pull him under. Later—when he was safe—he would mourn Burt Hummel, but for now there was no time. He hurried up the stairs, Dean following behind him. They met up with another man, who introduced himself as Sam, in the living room.

Before they were able to make it to the front door, however, the lights in the living room began to flicker and everything began to rumble.

"It's too late," Dean said. "They're here."

The brothers moved to where they were covering him.

While they were moving into place, Kurt grabbed the knife out of Dean's hands and slit his wrist once more. He was putting the finishing touches on the Banishing Sigil when the door flew open revealing two angels—Castiel and Uriel. Kurt had never met either of them, but from what he had gathered—and what he knew—Uriel and a band of angels were working against the Host of Heaven in an attempt to release Lucifer from his cage.

"Give us the boy," Uriel said at the same time that Castiel said, "Step aside."

"Man, junkless, I had no idea that you swung that way," Dean said. "But, sorry, you're gonna have to get yourself another one."

"Dean," Castiel said, his tone warning. "Step aside."

Dean scoffed. "So you can kill this kid? No way."

"Oh, he is much more than a kid," Uriel said. "He's a traitor."

"Really, Uriel, you think it wise to go there? You would call me a traitor after the things you've done?" Kurt said, cocking his head to the side and looking at the angel in front of him.

Uriel looked alarmed, but only for the briefest of moments. "Enough talking," he said, swinging a fist towards Dean.

Sam turned pleading eyes towards Castiel who was now moving forward. "Cass, please…" the rest of his sentence died on his lips as the angel in question reached out and placed a finger to his forehead, causing him to crumple to the floor.

Castiel locked eyes with Kurt, but before he could do anything else, Kurt leaned over and pressed his still bleeding hand to the Sigil. With a flash, both Castiel and Uriel disappeared.

"What the—" Dean said, his eyes widening as he saw the bloody Sigil on the wall and the blood still pouring from Kurt's arm.

"I sent them away," he told him. "Far away."

Dean bent over to check on his brother, giving Kurt a chance to rush into the kitchen to get a dishtowel to wrap around his wrist. When he came out, Dean was helping Sam to his feet.

"We shouldn't linger. I just bought us some time but not much."

The two brothers nodded, and together the three of them headed outside.

"What did you mean back there? What kinds of things has Uriel been doing?" Dean asked, later, when they had been on the road to South Dakota for several hours. Sam had finally nodded off, leaving Kurt and Dean in a comfortable silence.

"I'm afraid I cannot tell you," Kurt said.

Dean let out an exasperated sigh. "Of course you can't. All you angels are exactly same."

"You misunderstand. It is not a matter of won't—it is a matter of can't. If I had the ability to speak of the things that I know, you—out of everyone, angel or man—would be the only one whom I would speak of them to."

He could see Dean's furrowed brow in the rear-view mirror. "Why?"

"Because out of everyone, you are the most deserving."

Dean made a noise of disbelief. "Yeah, right."

Kurt leaned over the backseat and placed a hand on Dean's shoulder. He stiffened at the contact, but Kurt continued. "Because I understand, more than some, what it's like to be completely surrounded by people and yet to still feel utterly alone."

"You don't know anything about me."

His hard and guarded gaze met Kurt's wide and guileless one in the rear-view mirror. "But I do," Kurt said, softly.

Dean squared his jaw and turned the radio up, the sounds of classic rock filling the car.

Sighing, Kurt moved away from him, turning towards the window so that he could watch as the countryside flowed by. It was only then that he allowed himself to feel both the loss of his grace and his human dad. It wasn't until he heard the opening chords of Kansas's "Carry on my wayward son" that he began to cry. It had been one of his dad's favorite songs growing up. As the tears rolled down his cheeks, he sang along softly.

_Though my eyes could see I still was a blind man  
Though my mind could think I still was a mad man  
I hear the voices when I'm dreaming  
I can hear them say. _

_Carry on my wayward son  
There'll be peace when you are done  
Lay your weary head to rest  
Don't you cry no more_

_Masquerading as a man with a reason  
My charade is the event of the season  
And if I claim to be a wise man, well  
It surely means that I don't know_

_On a stormy sea of moving emotion  
Tossed about I'm like a ship on the ocean  
I set a course for winds of fortune  
But I hear the voices say_

_Carry on my wayward son  
There'll be peace when you are done  
Lay your weary head to rest  
Don't you cry no more_

_Carry on, you will always remember  
Carry on, nothing equals the splendor  
The center lights around your vanity  
But surely heaven waits for you_

Carry on my wayward son  
There'll be peace when you are done  
Lay your weary head to rest  
Don't you cry (don't you cry no more)


	3. Chapter 3

The Coming of the End

By _Koinaka_

In the arms of an angel  
Fly away from here  
From this dark cold hotel room  
And the endlessness that you fear.  
You are pulled from the wreckage  
Of your silent reverie.  
You're in the arms of the angel  
May you find some comfort there.  
_-Angel, Sarah McLachlan_

_A woman dressed all in white falls to the ground, her eyes wide and unseeing. _

_Blood pools on the ground, flowing until it forms a circle and then turning inward, every second bringing the blood closer to where it yearns to be. _

_Bright light fills the room as the cage breaks open. _

_Lucifer is set free. _

Kurt screamed himself awake once more. It was beginning to become a habit. In the three days since their arrival at Bobby Singer's house, Kurt had had the dream numerous times. Sometimes the events leading up to it were different, but the outcome was always the same. No matter what decisions were made, no matter what he did or didn't do—Lucifer was always set free. He had spent countless hours praying to his Father, asking for guidance, but to no avail.

He felt helpless, trapped in a tiny room with only Dean, Sam, and occasionally Ruby—who he could not bear to look in the face knowing what she was doing, what she was working towards, what she would accomplish. Even if he could leave the room, he couldn't leave the house. His father's body had been discovered, and by the time they reached South Dakota, he was wanted for questioning. He hadn't been named a suspect, yet, but it was only a matter of time.

He needed to get out, to search for his grace. If he had his grace, then at least he could protect himself, protect others. Without it, he had nothing to offer them except for unanswerable questions. Sam had been researching it, and Ruby had promised that she would ask around, but nobody seemed very optimistic because if Kurt, who was the Keeper of Secrets, didn't know, well, that didn't bode well for anyone.

And all the while the seals were continuing to break—just the night before while he slept one had broken. Every day they got closer and closer to the end. Every day Lucifer was one step closer to freedom, and when he was free…

"You have another one?"

Startled, Kurt turned to find Dean standing with his arms crossed over his chest in the doorway of the panic room that had become his home, illuminated by the moonlight. He was surprised to find him there, very surprised, in fact, because since their brief interlude in the car Dean spoke to him only when he could not avoid doing so and even then very little.

"Another dream," Dean clarified when Kurt did not answer right away. "I heard you screaming."

"Not a dream," Kurt murmured. "It was a vision."

"So, you're some kind of psychic angel? How's that work?" Dean came fully into the room and sat in one of the two chairs the room contained.

"I—no. Psychics don't see the future in the way that you are thinking. They see _possible_ futures."

"And the futures you see are, what, set in stone?"

"Something like that," Kurt said vaguely, his eyes skimming over Dean's troubled face before lowering to his own hands. "Some people—some angels—believe in destiny, in fate. In some preordained path that you _have _to take. That…isn't entirely true."

Dean snorted. "How about that. Angels lie. What a shocker."

"Well," Kurt countered. "Like I said, not entirely. There are certain events that are…preordained. Those are the things that are set in stone. The events leading up to them may change and often do because of the choices people make along the way."

"And let me guess, God is the one who calls all the shots?"

"Yes," he said simply.

Dean stood up and began to pace the length of the room. His hands were clenched into fists at his side. "And we're supposed to just go along with it?"

"You have free will, of course."

"Free will," Dean said, shaking his head and laughing bitterly. "Oh, yeah, some free will."

Kurt watched as Dean got more and more agitated. After he paced the length of the room several more times, Kurt slid off of the small bed and made his way over to him.

"What is this really about, Dean?"

"One of your little angel pals visited me in my dream tonight. Told me that I had until the morning to hand you over, or they kill Sam. So, you tell me, what kind of free will is that?" He ran a hand angrily through his hair.

"They gave you a choice—two choices, to be exact. You can either do as they say and hand me over—I wouldn't blame you if you did. You hardly know me, after all, and you've already saved my life once—or you can do nothing, and they will kill your brother."

Dean slammed his hand down onto the desk, causing Kurt to go silent at once. "If I hand you over to them, they will kill _you_. Are you suicidal or something?"

Kurt reached out to place a hand on Dean's arm, but stopped himself after remembering the last time he had done so, causing his arm to just fall. "Not suicidal in the least, and they may try to kill me, but I doubt that they would succeed."

At Dean's questioning look, he continued. "If they try, my Father is sure to intervene. He did before. How else do you think I came to be human?"

Dean rubbed the back of his neck and gave a little shrug. "We weren't sure, and Sammy said it would be rude to ask," he paused. "Why do they want you dead anyway? Aren't they supposed to be your brothers?"

Now it was Kurt who shrugged. "All brothers fight—even you and Sam, _especially_ the two of you. I happen to have excellent hearing, you know—but Raphael wanted me dead because he was angry. He thought I had betrayed them by choosing humans over my fellow angels."

Dean said nothing for a long time. "Did you? Betray them?"

"Well," Kurt said, pausing to gather his thoughts. "I suppose, in a manner of speaking, yes—but not in the way you're thinking. Not too long after casting Lucifer from Heaven, my Father left as well. He and I were…close, extremely so, and I didn't take separation very well. I left and came to Earth to watch over humans as He had commanded all of us to do. Now, would you say that I betrayed my brothers if I was following the commandments of my Father?"

When he finished speaking, he saw that Dean was watching him with an unreadable expression on his face. "You mean to tell me that you've actually seen God."

Kurt nodded. "It has been a number of years—far too many to count—but yes, I have seen him. I have spoken with him."

All of the fight seemed to drain out of Dean at that, and he sank down into a chair. His head dropped into his hands. When he looked up, his eyes were dark. "So you're telling me that there is a God."

Kurt's expression turned scandalized. "Of course there's a God! Why would you ever think there wasn't?"

"Oh, I don't know," Dean started, his tone sardonic. "Maybe because the world's going to hell in a hand-basket, and he ain't doing squat to stop it!"

"Dean," Kurt said, dropping to a crouch in front of the other man. "Nothing that I say right now will make you feel any better—if anything, it'll only make you angrier—but I will tell you that just because I know what's going to happen doesn't mean that I understand _why _it has to happen nor does it mean that I like it. It's okay to be angry—you, more than anyone, have the right to be angry."

Dean fell silent again, but Kurt could see the pain behind his silence, the weight he carried around on his shoulders. It reminded him so much of his Father that it almost took his breath away. He took a chance and laid his hand on Dean's knee.

"You know why I'm not frightened about what's to come, Dean, when I have every reason to be?"

He did not respond, so Kurt just continued. "It's because I _know_ that no matter what happens, you will always do the right thing." He paused because he knew that saying this next thing was a risk. "What happened before—what you did in Hell—it wasn't your fault."

Dean jerked away from him as if he had been burned. "Shut _up_," he hissed. "You don't know anything."

"I know that it wasn't your fault. I know that it was _always _going to happen. It wasn't a question of you being weak, Dean, or of you breaking—"

"I said shut up!" He stood suddenly, causing Kurt to fall back on his heels. He stayed like that for a moment before rising to his feet. Dean hadn't moved from the spot, he was just standing there, an inexplicable expression on his face.

When Dean spoke again, his voice was shaky. "I can't—I _can't_ talk about that."

Instead of responding, Kurt reached out his hand and cupped Dean's face. His eyes closed, lashes fluttering against his cheek, when he felt Kurt's lithe fingers trace first his cheek bone and then his strong jaw. It took everything he had not to lean in and press his lips Dean's, to catch the solitary tear drop now trailing down his face with his tongue.

A shiver went up his spine, and a feeling of rightness filled him completely. This was where he was meant to be. Everything that had come before— his Father calling him home, Raphael attempting to kill him, the years he spent as a human, years he spent being tormented for daring to be different, the first words he heard from the angels—all of it had led to this moment. He didn't need his grace to be useful. He could help them—he could help Dean. Help him shoulder the weight of the things to come, of the decisions he would have to make, the things he would see.

_Bright light fills the room as the cage breaks open. _

_Lucifer is set free. _

"You don't have to carry this burden on your own any longer." He moved closer until their lips were nearly touching. "Let me help you," he breathed against Dean's soft lips.

Dean let out a shuddering breath and pulled away, opening his eyes to study Kurt for a moment and then surging forward and pressing their lips together once more.

_i need your grace  
to remind me  
to find my own_

_If I lay here_  
_If I just lay here_  
_Would you lie with me and just forget the world?_

_Forget what we're told_  
_Before we get too old_  
_Show me a garden that's bursting into life_

_All that I am_  
_All that I ever was_  
_Is here in your perfect eyes, they're all I can see_

_I don't know where_  
_Confused about how as well_  
_Just know that these things will never change for us at all_

_If I lay here_  
_If I just lay here_  
_Would you lie with me and just forget the world?_


	4. Chapter 4

The Coming of the End

By _Koinaka_

In the arms of an angel  
Fly away from here  
From this dark cold hotel room  
And the endlessness that you fear.  
You are pulled from the wreckage  
Of your silent reverie.  
You're in the arms of the angel  
May you find some comfort there.  
_-Angel, Sarah McLachlan_

Chapter Four_  
_

There was hardly room for one person on the tiny cot in the panic room let alone two, but somehow both Dean and Kurt managed to make it work. Mostly because Kurt was nearly all the way on top of Dean, plastered to him so that every inch of Kurt was touching some part of Dean, so that he could feel the beating of his heart, the rising and falling of his chest as he breathed. Kurt traced the hand print on Dean's arm tenderly. He could feel Castiel's grace dancing beneath the surface there. Dean's breath hitched at the contact, his calloused hand splaying against the small of Kurt's back where it rested.

"The first time I heard the angels speak was when Castiel pulled you from hell. I was sitting with some of my friends from school when I heard him say, 'Dean Winchester is saved.' I thought I was going crazy."

He felt more than heard Dean's response, a sleepy murmur of, "Really?"

Kurt nodded. "I think maybe I did go a little crazy on Halloween—when the seal was broken. I slit my wrist and painted a Sigil on my wall. I didn't even know what it meant, but I thought it would protect me. When my dad found me…well, it wasn't very pretty. I put him through a lot the last few months."

"The man that I…uh… that the demon was riding in…was your dad, right?"

"Yes."

There was a pause, and then Dean's arms tightened around him. "I'm…well, not sorry that I stopped him, but I'm sorry…for your loss."

Neither of them spoke for quite a while. Kurt traced patterns onto Dean's stomach with the pads of his fingertips, relishing in the way that Dean trembled beneath them.

"Why do you think he did it? Made you human and sent you to earth, I mean. If he was just saving you from Raphael, couldn't he have picked an easier way? It just….it seems like maybe there was a reason that he did it the way he did."

Kurt inhaled deeply, enjoying the burn he felt when he pulled in a little too much air before then exhaling it all out slowly. The act of breathing felt foreign to him, now, even though he had been doing so for sixteen years without ever feeling that way. "I don't know," he said finally. "I only hold the secrets that my Father gives me, and He has not given this one to me."

"Do you ever wonder why he's letting any of this shit happen in the first place? I mean, he could stop it if he wanted to, right?"

Another deep breath. "I—_yes_."

Tensions were high the next morning. Kurt spent the majority of the morning pacing back and forth in the panic room while the others talked strategy. Both the angels and the demons were drawing in on them, and there was little they could do. As much as Kurt disliked Ruby—and make no mistake, he did dislike her—he knew that she was right when she said that they couldn't fight both Heaven and Hell. One side, yes, but not both, and definitely not when one side was angels. The demons would definitely be easier to fight, all things considered, than the angels because they had something that could actually _kill_ a demon as opposed to what they had to fight against angels which was nothing but the deflection that was afforded to them by using the Banishing Sigil.

Except…what if they did have a weapon they could use against an angel—a weapon like an Archangel's blade? Maybe then they would stand a chance against both sides. Better still would be to have an angel—Archangel or not—on their side.

And then it came to him. There _was _someone he could ask for help.

Gabriel.

It would be risky, yes, because to do so he would have to give up the protection of the hex bag, and there was always the possibility that his brother would not answer his call, but it was a chance he was willing to take.

"What if," Kurt began, interrupting Ruby, who was once again berating their lack of forethought on getting involved with a fight between heaven and hell.

Three sets of eyes were fixed steadily on him, waiting for him to continue.

"What if we had an Archangel on our side? Or their blade at the very least."

No one said anything at first, but from their reactions he could tell that they were thinking about it—even if Ruby looked a little nauseous at the idea. Everyone except Dean.

"No way," he said at once. "You told me yourself that last time you were in the same room as one of your brothers, he tried to kill you. What makes you think this time would be any different?"

"Gabriel would never hurt me."

The certainty of both Kurt's words and his tone left no room for arguing, but Dean somehow still managed to find some. "Well, he sure as hell hasn't helped you, has he? Where was he when Raphael tried to gank you?"

"I'm sure he would have helped had he been there at the time, but I haven't seen him in…a very long time. He left Heaven before Lucifer was cast out."

But the certainty that had been there before wasn't there now because while Kurt was certain that Gabriel wouldn't hurt him, he wasn't quite so certain that he would help him.

"Why?" Dean asked, his face earnest and his voice full of confusion. "Why would anyone leave Heaven if they didn't have to?"

Kurt just stared at a spot on the wall over his shoulder. "We were a family—Michael, Raphael, Lucifer, Gabriel, and I—and like any family, we had our share of disagreements, but given our nature, our disagreements…well, they weren't exactly small. Gabriel left because he was tired of the fighting, tired of being asked to choose sides in an argument that no one would win."

Dean whistled and then let out a low, humorless chuckle. "Man, and I thought that us Winchesters were dysfunctional, but you guys take the cake."

"Yes, perhaps we do," Kurt said in a subdued tone. He turned away from the group, trying to ignore the ache in his chest.

This was the part about reconciling the two sides of himself that was the most difficult—having two separate families, each family as different from the other as they could be.

For so many years, it had been him and his dad against the world. Now, Kurt was left with an absent Father who he loved, desperately, fervently loved, a brother who had attempted to kill him just a little over a decade and a half ago, two brothers who were so focused on killing one another that they were willing to consume the entire planet if that's what it took to win, and one brother who was so afraid of standing up to his family that he had been living a lie for countless millennia.

For the first time since remembering his true identity, Kurt wished for ignorance once more. He yearned to do all of the things he had taken for granted—his moisturizing regime, fighting with Rachel over solos, berating Mr. Schue's weekly assignments with Mercedes, talking fashion with Tina. More than anything, he wished to see his dad once again.

"You think Gabriel will really help?" Dean asked, interrupting Kurt's thoughts.

Kurt sucked in a harsh breath before turning back to meet his questioning gaze. "I think that we have nothing left to lose."

Ruby let out a derisive snort. "Except our _lives_. Archangels are…" she struggled for words. "You think regular angels are dicks, you haven't seen anything yet—"

Kurt gave her a pointed look, and she fell silent almost at once.

That more than anything seemed to settle it for Dean because, like Kurt, he didn't trust the demon. He might not know everything that Kurt did, but he certainly knew enough to know that she was bad news.

"Okay," Dean said, exhaling heavily. "So, how do we do this? You got him on speed dial or something?"

"Something like that," Kurt replied, his eyes flitting between the three people standing in front of him. "But I'll have to get rid of the hex bag first because if I don't, he won't be able to find me."

"And if he doesn't show up, but the other angels do, what then?" Ruby asked.

Kurt shrugged. "It's a risk, yes, but one that I'm willing to take. Feel free to leave if you'd like, Ruby. In fact, I suggest you do."

Ruby glared, and Sam frowned. "Nice," he commented. "Really nice."

"Not everyone is so willing to trust a demon," Kurt said.

"If it wasn't for me, angel-boy, you'd be a demon's chew toy right now, so maybe you should at least pretend to be a little grateful."

"I am grateful," he said as sincerely as he could because she was telling the truth. Had she not informed the Winchesters about him then it was likely that he would have been captured that night. He certainly couldn't have stopped that demon alone. "But that doesn't mean I trust you."

Dean stepped in between the two of them, leveling Ruby with a warning look before turning to Kurt. "So, you get rid of the hex bag, and then what?"

"I call for him, and pray that he answers my call before the other angels—or the demons—realize I'm unmasked."

"Okay," Dean said, nodding. "Okay, so, basically we just hope for the best and expect the worst. Sounds about right. Let's do this."

"For the record," Ruby said. "I think this is a really bad idea."

"If you have a better idea, I'm all ears," Dean said, spreading his hands out wide. "Otherwise, shut your pie hole."

It was Sam who answered. "I think we should take a step back. We have no leads on where his grace could be, and there's no way we can take on both sides, not yet anyway. We've done all we can do here, Dean. We need to concentrate on something we can actually do something about. Like stopping Lilith from breaking anymore seals. Sorry," he added to Kurt. "As long as you have the hex bag, no one will be able to find you, and maybe when Bobby comes home, he'll know of something better to do, but for now…"

Sam's words became dimmer at the same time as the edges of Kurt's vision started to become hazy, and suddenly the scene before him changed. He was still seeing Sam, but a different Sam. A Sam dressed entirely in white.

_Dean lays motionless on the ground, the heel of Sam's foot pressed into his neck. _

_Sam tilts his head in greeting when he sees Kurt. _

_"Hello brother."_

_It is not Sam. It is Lucifer staring out from Sam's eyes. _

"—hear me?"

Kurt blinked as the world came back into focus. He was on the floor of the panic room with Dean crouched down beside him. Sam and Ruby were still standing in the same spot. He looked away from Sam almost immediately, choosing instead to look at Dean.

"Vision?" he asked.

Kurt nodded. "Yes. I think they will become more frequent as time goes on. I've only been aware of my status for less than a week. My Father must have been holding them back before, but now that I am aware once again…" He shrugged.

"We doing this or not?" Dean didn't wait for anyone to answer, though; he just pulled a lighter out of his pocket and tossed it to him.

With shaking hands, Kurt took the hex bag from the pocket of his pajama pants and set the end on fire before dropping it on the floor.

"_Gabriel_," he said as he watched the flames consume the hexbag, the Enochian flowing freely off of his tongue. How odd it was to speak it again after so long of not. Even odder still was the expression on Dean's face at hearing him speak it. "_Gabriel_."

There was a moment of absolute silence before everything began to rumble and the lights began to flash. The light was blinding, so much brighter than when Castiel and Uriel arrived that even Kurt had to avert his eyes.

The look on Gabriel's face when he arrived to find Kurt standing before him, the burning hex bag at his feet, was completely uncharacteristic. All of Kurt's memories involving Gabriel were ones of laughter and smiles, but this Gabriel was frowning slightly, not one trace of amusement on his face.

Beside him both Dean and Sam stared wide-eyed at Gabriel for a second until they both moved toward him, each one yelling something different. Gabriel held up his hand rendering them both silent and immobile. He moved toward Kurt, slowly, his eyes studying him.

"Raziel," he said when he reached him, his fingers gliding over the contours of Kurt's face as if to reassure himself that Kurt was really there. "I thought you were dead."

Before either of them was able to say anything else, the lights began to flicker once again. Kurt's eyes widened as he heard the fluttering of wings that signaled the arrival of Castiel and Uriel. If they were surprised to see Gabriel, they did not look it.

Uriel was the first to speak. "Brother," he said, his voice pitched low. "I see you've already detained the traitor. Raphael will be pleased that you've returned to help us."

Gabriel scoffed, loudly. The pensive look on his face had been replaced by his usual smirk. "Help you? Now, why would I want to do a thing like that?"

"Give me the boy, Gabriel."

Gabriel cocked his head to the side, affecting deliberation. He looked at Uriel first and then at Castiel before finally looking at Kurt.

"You know what? I don't think I will. Not really feeling too charitable today, boys, if you know what I mean."

"I wasn't asking. We have orders to take him to Raphael." Uriel said.

"Oh yeah? And just who died and left him in charge?"

"This boy is a traitor." Uriel said, trying a different tactic. "Surely you can't mean to let him go free." His tone was full of incredulity but beneath it was something else that Kurt could discern right away. _Fear_. Uriel was afraid of Gabriel, and for good reason.

"Traitor?" Gabriel asked, matching Uriel's incredulous tone. "Raziel? A traitor? Well, Muriel, sorry to hafta be the one that breaks it to ya, but I think someone's been yankin' your wings."

He considered the angel in front of him. "On the other hand…As the Trickster, I _do _have a reputation of giving out just deserts to live up to."

With a snap of his fingers, Uriel disappeared. He turned to Castiel. "Why don't you go run along and tell my brother he'll have to do his own dirty work from now on? Unless…" He raised his hand, poised to snap again at a moment's notice.

The fluttering of wings signaling Castiel's departure was his only response.

Gabriel clapped his hands together. "Now that we have _that _taken care of, one of you chuckleheads want to tell me what's going on?"

Kurt stepped forward. "We need your help. _I_ need your help."

Gabriel arched a brow and waited for him to continue. Kurt took a deep breath and did so. "Your sword. I need your sword."


	5. Chapter 5

Warning: Some mentions of torture but nothing too graphic as I don't have the stomach to write it.

The Coming of the End

By _Koinaka_

In the arms of an angel  
Fly away from here  
From this dark cold hotel room  
And the endlessness that you fear.  
You are pulled from the wreckage  
Of your silent reverie.  
You're in the arms of the angel  
May you find some comfort there.  
_-Angel, Sarah McLachlan_

Chapter Five

"I'm sorry, brother," was Gabriel's only response before he disappeared leaving Kurt and the Winchesters alone in the panic room, the hex bag still burning at his feet.

An uncomfortable silence fell over the room.

Kurt sighed. "I never had much hope that he would help," he said, finally, breaking the silence. "That he dispatched Uriel and Castiel was more than I even expected."

Dean's jaw was clenched, and he looked furious. "Some family you have. Bunch of heartless dicks."

"What's our next move?" Sam asked. "The Trickster—I mean, Gabriel—might have gotten rid of the other angels for now, but they'll be back. They're not ever going to leave him alone. I know you don't trust Ruby, Dean, but she's right. We can't fight them all."

"So, what do you think we oughta do?" Dean demanded angrily. "Just let the angels drag him away to some heavenly prison, or maybe you think we oughta let the demons have a go with him. 'Cause I'm betting they would just _love _to get their hands on an angel they can torture—especially, you know, one that knows _God's secrets_."

Sam let out an exasperated sigh. "That's not what I'm saying at all. I just think we need to concentrate on things we can actually do—like stopping Lilith from breaking the seals—"

Kurt interrupted Sam, speaking directly to him for the very first time. "You're working under the misapprehension that you _can _stop the breaking of the seals. You can't. The seals will break—Lucifer _will _rise. There is nothing you can do to stop it—not anymore. Too many seals have broken already."

Both Winchesters turned to look at him. "What?" Sam asked at the same time that Dean asked. "And you were planning on telling us this when?"

"Would you have believed me if I had told you—either of you—that it was so?" Kurt asked sharply. "No," he continued without letting either of them speaking. "Even now Sam thinks that I am lying. He thinks that he knows best—that a _demon _knows best. He is wrong—you are wrong, Sam. What you are doing is _wrong_, and if you don't stop…"

_Dean lays motionless on the ground, the heel of Sam's foot pressed into his neck. _

_Sam tilts his head in greeting when he sees Kurt. _

_"Hello brother."_

_It is not Sam. It is Lucifer staring out from Sam's eyes. _

Kurt shook his head to get the image of Dean lying motionless on the ground out. He took a deep breath, blinking rapidly to dispel the tears that came unbidden. "But you won't—you never do," he finished sadly.

And he wouldn't. Sam wouldn't stop—perhaps he couldn't stop, even if he wanted to, so entrapped by Ruby that he could see no other ending, and because of that there _was _no other ending. It was a tragedy of his own making, helped along by both angelic and demonic forces. It wasn't Sam's fault, not truly.

For a moment, Sam looked devastated—completely and utterly devastated—but then his face shifted into a look of determination, and he turned to leave the room. "Going to go check on some leads Ruby gave me," he muttered before fleeing.

"Why'd you have to tell him that for?" Dean demanded, grabbing Kurt's arm and dragging him until they were only a breath's length apart.

"Because it's the truth! Because while his intentions are good, the result is _not_." _Because I'm not sure that I can bear to see you dead_ went unsaid.

Dean's grip tightened. "Yeah? And whose fault is that?" He licked his lips. "'Cause the way I see it, there's only one person—thing—out there that can stop any of this shit, and y'know what? He's not doing a damn thing. Why's he not here helping you if he loves you so much? Some father you have. If he even exists at all."

When Kurt didn't respond, Dean let his arm go and pushed passed him, leaving the panic room not even bothering to look back.

Kurt slid to the floor, and for a long time, he didn't move. He just watched as the flames from the burning hex bag waned and then went out completely. He wished that there was some way he could reassure Dean that everything was happening according to his father's plan, but he couldn't. How could he reassure Dean when he couldn't even reassure himself? He knew that he was meant to be here, to help Dean through this, but he didn't know how he was supposed to do that. He had received no instructions.

More than that, his two sides warred with one another. Kurt had never been religious at a human. He had been the very opposite, in fact, going so far as to doubt that there even was a god. He knew very well, now, that there was a god, but still that other side whispered things to him—things that suggested Dean was right.

Kurt heaved himself to his feet. Perhaps there was one place he could go to feel his father's presence, if only for the briefest of moments. Dean had gone out the day before and bought him some much needed clothes. They weren't anything like the ones he used to wear, the type that he preferred, but they were better than the pajamas he had been wearing for what felt like days. It didn't take him long to pull on some more acceptable clothes—just a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and a hoodie—and headed up the stairs to the basement. Once upstairs, he walked over to the desk where he knew Bobby kept the Yellow Pages. He didn't often use the real thing because the internet or his phone was much faster, but he would have to make do with what he had now which was this. Luckily enough, the city Bobby lived in was fairly small and the church he wanted to go to was off the same street that Singer's Salvage Yard was. Once he had the address, he listened for Sam and Dean. They were talking in the living room, so he waited for a moment before inching towards the door. The door creaked softly as he opened it, but neither Winchester must have heard him because if they had—Dean at least—would have stopped him.

It didn't take very long to get to the church, and, as luck would have it, there was mid-week Mass about to start. Kurt closed his eyes as he slipped into the church and the scent of incense enveloped him. He hadn't been to church in a very long time. Not since before he became human. His parents had never been particularly religious, so he'd never had occasion to go.

He went through the motions of Mass reverently, praying to his father with every step, begging him, asking him to show him the way. What was he supposed to do? How was he supposed to help Dean if he couldn't even help himself? He thought, foolishly, that just by being there that he would be able to help him, but he knew that as long as he remained vulnerable, Dean would never be able to relax his guard. Kurt didn't need Dean protecting him—not when he wanted to be the one to protect Dean, to help him shoulder some of the burden.

Kurt lingered when the services were over, but eventually he made his way out and into the fading sunlight. The peace he had found at the church was fleeting replaced by anxiety that seemed to come from nowhere. He took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself down. It didn't help. He was more anxious than he had ever been since discovering his true identity. He paused and scanned the area around him, expecting to see someone watching him as he had the uncanny feeling of being watched. Not finding anyone, he shrugged and continued walking. He was passing by an empty strip of shopping mall when he was flung against the wall by an unseen force. He struggled but found that he could not move at all.

Three figures stepped out in front of him. "Little angel, little angel," the tall man said with a leer. "Going out without your little bag of bones, not very smart…"

Kurt's chest twisted when the man's eyes flashed white.

"Alastair," he breathed.

The demon's smile was beatific. "In the flesh." He turned to the two demons flanking him. "Grab him, boys."

Instead of grabbing him right away, the female demon grabbed his head and banged it against the side of the building. Pin-points of light flashed in front of his eyes before darkness pulled him under.

When he next awoke, he was strapped into some sort of chair. Alastair approached him wearing a leather apron.

"Don't want to stain my good clothes," the demon said. "Let's get started, shall we?"

Kurt's eyes blazed. "I'll never talk. I won't tell you one single word."

Alastair shrugged but a lazy smile spread across his face. "I do love a challenge."

Kurt did talk but not in the way Alastair hoped. He babbled, pleaded with the demon to let him go, cried out to his father and to his brothers in Enochian, to Dean, first for them to help him and then, later, to kill him.

No one came.

The pain just went on and on and on until he didn't think he could take it any longer, until he thought he would go mad. He drifted in and out of consciousness, but each time he thought he would be granted some measure of reprieve, Alastair would jar him awake with one of his many knives or devices.

The demon let out a put upon sigh as he licked the blood off of his knife. He leaned forward until his lips were touching Kurt's ear. "Tell me something—just one little thing—and I'll let you go."

Kurt's breathing was labored and his throat was torn to shred due to all of the screaming, so it took a minute before he could speak. "Never," he told him spitting blood into Alastair's face.

"Why you little—"

But before Alastair could do anything, there was a flash of bright white light. Kurt closed his eyes against it, and the last thing he heard were two cries of surprise as he somehow reappeared back at Bobby's.


	6. Chapter 6

So sorry about the long time between updates! I've had a crazy month in between getting ready to move, moving, and then getting settled into my new city. I also just started grad school. I'm not sure how often I will update, but I do promise to update! I have half a chapter of Of Fathers and Sons that I will try to work on over the long weekend as well as a start on another chapter of The Transiency of Love, so you guys have that to look forward to. For now, though, please enjoy this!

The Coming of the End

By _Koinaka_

In the arms of an angel  
Fly away from here  
From this dark cold hotel room  
And the endlessness that you fear.  
You are pulled from the wreckage  
Of your silent reverie.  
You're in the arms of the angel  
May you find some comfort there.  
_-Angel, Sarah McLachlan_

__Chapter Six

_He was alone—he was always, always alone. His brothers had turned their back on him, his father was nowhere to be found. _

_He walked on and on and on. There was nothing but white as far as the eye could see—a white so bright that he could see it as plainly with his eyes closed as with them opened. _

_Until, suddenly, he was not alone. There was a man there with him in the stark nothingness. A man who even though his face was unfamiliar to him, caused his blood to run cold at his appearance—white eyes gleaming in madness, a blood drenched knife in his hand. The steady drip, drip, drip of blood falling the only noise to be heard. _

_"Daddy can't hide you forever, pretty little angel," the man chuckled, dragging the knife against his palm. "I so look forward to seeing you again…" _

Kurt struggled into consciousness with a plea on his lips. "Please, _please_, no more—I can't bear it," his voice was reedy and plaintive. "Father, Father, _please_…"

"What's he saying?" someone asked near him. "Is that…?"

"Enochian?" a gravelly voice filled in. "Yes."

Kurt tried to open his eyes, but they felt heavy, as if they were filled with lead. He was free from pain, but he was just so, _so, _tired, and he had an ache that he could not place. It was not a physical pain, per se, and yet it hurt, more so than Alastair's torture.

"So, what's he sayin', Cas?" Dean asked. Kurt would have known that voice no matter what state he was in—waking, sleeping, or otherwise—he was so attuned to it even if he had only known it for a short while.

There was a pause before the gravelly voice—was it Castiel? Kurt couldn't be sure—spoke again. "He is calling out to his father—to God."

"So, that light we saw before when he appeared out of thin air was, what, God?" the first person, who Kurt now knew to be Sam, asked.

"Yes. I believe so. I have never been in the presence of God before, but the only creature powerful enough to cause such destruction is God."

"Destruction?" Dean asked skeptically. "I thought God was all about creation."

"Not necessarily," Sam said. "Think back to the Old Testament, Dean. The wrath of God was legendary."

"Sam's right," Castiel said after a moment. "Although much of what was credited to God was actually the work of angels. It was an archangel—Raphael—who destroyed the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah."

Dean let out a heavy breath. "And God was what led you here?" he asked.

"In a manner of speaking, yes. My brothers and I felt a jolt of power in heaven, and I was sent to investigate it thinking that perhaps a seal had been broken. When I arrived, I found nothing—"

Dean cut him off. "What do you mean you found nothing?"

"I mean to say that although, only moments before, there had been a warehouse of some sort standing on the ground there was nothing—absolutely nothing—and not only was there nothing there but the blocks surrounding where the warehouse once stood as well. The only building left standing was an old abandoned convent. The power was familiar to me, though I could not place it, so I followed it here. It was only belatedly, when I saw the two of you, that I realized where I was."

"So you're saying that God destroyed an entire block of buildings?" Sam asked.

"Not exactly," Castiel said, slowly. "I used the wrong word before. The buildings weren't destroyed. They simply no longer exist…"

Castiel's words began to fade, becoming softer and softer, until Kurt was once again pulled into the heavy darkness of sleep.

_He was alone—always, always alone—wandering the earth, constantly in search of some unnamed thing, watching the rise and fall of empires, watching as the world advanced around him, forever on the outside looking in. _

The scene faded into another scene, this time a memory from the previous year, before he joined the Glee club.

_It was the first time that he had been cornered by the boys, each one larger than himself, that would become his most prevalent tormenters. _

_One of the teachers walked by, oblivious to what was going on. "Making new friends, Kurt?" he asked. _

_Terrified, Kurt said nothing. The teacher continued on his way leaving Kurt behind. The boys, grinning, ransacked his bag before tossing him into the dumpster. _

_Day after day, this continued. The teachers that did notice the bullying did nothing to stop it. They merely averted their eyes and pretended they saw nothing._

_Kurt had not been a religious person, by any means, but after months of being tormented, he found himself praying that someone—_anyone—_would notice the bullying. _

_No one ever did. _

The scene changed once more.

_He was being tortured by the demon Alastair. The demon's knife cut him over and over again, and yet he did not bleed out. _

_"Handy little spell, isn't it?" the demon asked. _

_Kurt said nothing as the demon sliced into him once more. "I couldn't have you die on me, now, could I? Wouldn't be much fun if I did that, you see, so now we can continue this until I grow tired of it, or until you decide to tell me what I want to know." _

_But still Kurt said nothing. _

_The demon heaved a disappointed sigh. "He's not going to come for you, you know," it said after a minute. "Dean's got a one-track mind. Spent thirty years on my rack, and every single day it was the same thing. Sam, Sam, Sam…. He'll never choose you over his brother, if it comes down to it." _

_Kurt said nothing to the demon, only continued to pray to his father, a never-ending mantra of "Please, please, please" repeating through his head. _

_The demon made a disparaging sound. "Daddy's not coming either, kiddo. Face it, _no one _is coming for you. _No one _cares." _

_Lies, Kurt thought. Demons lie. _

_And yet, now at least, the demon spoke the truth because no one did come. It was only when Kurt was on the brink of death that his father had come for him. _

_And Dean… Dean had not come at all._

The first thing that Kurt saw when he woke up the next time was Castiel looking down on him from beside the bed where he was sitting with an indiscernible expression on his face.

"Come to finish the job?" Kurt asked after a moment.

Castiel's brow furrowed, and he tilted his head to the side. "Finish the job?" he repeated, slowly, as if Kurt was speaking a foreign language that was just out of his grasp of understanding. "I have not come to harm you, if that is what you are asking."

There was a long pause, during which Kurt allowed his eyes to drift around the room. He had thought, at first, that he was back in the panic room, but he was not. There was a brief moment of panic where he wondered where, exactly, he was until his eyes landed on a familiar duffel bag and an even more familiar leather jacket. This was Dean's room. He was in Dean's bed.

With Castiel sitting beside him.

"Why are you here, then, if not to harm me?" he asked. "I'm still considered a traitor, am I not?"

"You are," Castiel replied quietly.

"So, I'm asking you again, why are you here, Castiel?"

Castiel hesitated before finally speaking. "I'm considering disobedience."


End file.
